


Grimmauld Place (English translation)

by LyraNude



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BL, Drarry, Harco, M/M, Slash, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:41:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28317654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyraNude/pseuds/LyraNude
Summary: A little festive story to wish a Happy Christmas to Harry and Draco
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 7





	Grimmauld Place (English translation)

**Author's Note:**

> Please, notice this is a translated story of another of my fics, my mother language is not English, so sorry for the mistakes. Try to be kind please :D

Draco is a little stressed, the week is being chaotic, and it's not that it wasn't before, but since his mother passed away it's as if his work has increased fivefold. He doesn't have enough to deal with the pain of having lost his mother when he was so young, he has just turned thirty-two, the life expectancy of magicians is over a hundred, he expected to have his mother until he was an old man himself, but an illness had wanted to take her away before and he still hasn't finished assimilating it. She was the only person he had ever trusted and who genuinely loved him.

Anyone who knows him a little can appreciate that he is not having a good day. He takes off his glasses to press the bridge of his nose to see if his headache will ease up a bit. When he feels like that, he prefers not to use optical spells, because in the long run they only make the pain worse and the feeling that his head is going to explode. He still has a lot of things to do, sending all the forms of the cases that were closed last week and also he needs to reduce the mountain of paperwork about his mother's inheritance that he should have started to move weeks ago in case there is something urgent, but he still hasn't had the courage to get his hands on it. For a while he considers hiring a lawyer to help him with the process; besides the laziness and lack of time, he has zero interest in moving among his mother's belongings right now. It's too soon, he says, and he also knows that it will take him a long time once he starts and he can't afford it now. They will have to wait.

As he thinks about it, he hears someone knocking on the door.

“Come in, please” he says without taking his eyes off his scrolls.

The sound of a pile of papers falling on his desk makes him stop what he is doing and finally look at the person in front of him. His eyes open in surprise as he finds Harry Potter himself in front of him.

“What do you... ?”

He does not have time to finish the sentence without being interrupted by Potter.

“You son of a...!” he doesn't finish it either. “How can you be such a... bastard?”

“Even if you don't intimidate me at all," he replies, without his gesture changing in the face of such a display of insults, "you could at least be considerate enough to explain to me what this nonsense is all about”

“Stop with the formalities, Mafoy, and please take the stick out of your ass, I don't need your little speech at all”

Draco stands up and faces him. 

“Can you tell me what all this is about?”

The former gryffindor gets so close to his face that for a second he is tempted to step back, but he doesn't hold back from anyone.

“It takes a lot of groveling to be one of the richest wizards in the country and try to take the home of a 13-year-old boy who is also an orphan. The day they shared out the feelings you would surely be busy becoming a deathheater”

The breath of the man in front of him hits his face, but not as hard as his words. They hurt him more than he is willing to admit.

“I still don't get a damn word of what you're saying Potter. And if you call me deatheater again, I don't care if you're an auror, I'm going to get you out of here even if it's without my wand and cuffed, even if I end up in Azkaban”

But this time he doesn't respond with words and throws a punch that Draco thinks has broken his nose. But not happy with that, he throws the papers he had in his hand in his face and they all fly around the room.

And without further ado he disappears without a word. Draco doesn't need to pinch himself to see if it was a hallucination because his nose hurts enough already.

  
  


It's not enough to say that he's angry. He feels like cursing someone, using an unforgivable one. To use it against Malfoy. And he thought that he had changed. What will he do next? Go to San Mungo to eat the newborn babies? What a bastard. 

He stands in the Ministry's bathroom for a moment to pull himself together. He washes his hands in which he still has some Malfoy blood. His stupid pure blood. He also pours some cold water on his face and looks at himself in the mirror. He hasn't recognized himself back there. He doesn't know what happened to him. Although I'd be lying if he said he regretted it.

Harry slams the door in Hermione's office and sits in the first armchair he finds. Well, saying "sits" is a euphemism, more like dropping. 

“Have you talked to him?” asks her friend, looking worried.

“More or less," he answers, opening and closing his fist, which hurts terribly, and now he will surely have to go to the hospital to have her hand treated!

“Harry!” she complains, immediately imagining what her friend's swollen knuckles are for.

Not that he is a temperamental person, but she can't see his friend getting into a fist fight at the first opportunity. Harry doesn't seem to have a scratch on him other than his hand, so she imagines that the other one hasn't defended himself. 

She wants to ask him what happened, but for the second time, the door opens and one of Harry's Auror colleagues looks out.

“Mr. Potter” he says hesitantly, "Auror Potter", or rather he murmurs with some fear, "I'm sorry but I have to arrest you.”

Although more than a detention it seems that he has come to beg him to accompany him.

“Excuse me?” Harry asks in amazement, standing up and facing his colleague.

“Mr Malfoy has lodged a complaint”

Harry sighs audibly and walks out of the office in a very bad mood. That's all he needed. That idiot has decided to ruin his life. 

When he sits down at the table inside the interrogation room he thinks his mood can't get any worse. But when he sees the Chief of Aurors himself enter the room and sitting in front of him, he swallows with difficulty and thinks that indeed, it could be worse. 

“You're in a lot of trouble, Potter," he says as soon as he sits down, "what were you thinking? Not only did you call him a Deatheater and threat him, but you also went and broke his nose. How old are you? I don't care what problems you have with Malfoy, if this is a regular thing between you two, if it's an old school fight or a lovers' quarrel” Harry rolls his eyes “but I won't tolerate this. You can be thankful, you are lucky. You are damn lucky. Malfoy has agreed to withdraw the complaint if you apologise.

“No way," he tries to defend himself again.

“You're not understanding me. I'm not asking you to. It's an order. Now Mr Malfoy is going to come in here and I'm going to be back there” Robards points to a mirror on the wall “listening how you do it. And I want to hear it very clearly.”

When his boss comes out and the former slytherin comes in, Harry moves uncomfortably in his chair. Now that he's in that situation he's not that happy with what he's done, especially when he looks at the swollen nose of the man in front of him.

For a few seconds neither of them says anything, but Harry feels Robards' gaze on him, and although he can't see him he imagines his boss looking at him as he did a while ago.

He clears his throat before speaking.

“Well Malfoy... “ he starts.

But the slytherin leans forward and interrupts him before he can continue.

“I didn't come here looking for an apology, Potter. I just want an explanation. An explanation without you having to attack me, without letting me speak and without saying a word. You seemed very angry and for some reason you think I have done something horrible. I'd like to know what it is.”

The Auror looks at him for a few seconds not knowing what to say. It isn´t possible that he doesn't know.

“It's ridiculous for you to come here pretending you don't know what happened when we've received a notification on your behalf, Malfoy.”

“A notification? Of what?” he asks, truly intrigued.

“To get us to leave Grimmauld Place. My boy and I," he says with real weariness.

“Grimmauld what? What boy? I didn't know you had a son.

Harry fights to not punch him again. He is sucha a hypocrite. First he kicks them out of their own house and now suddenly he doesn't remember. Or does he take people's houses away so often that he doesn't even remember?

“He's not my son," he says, "he's my godson, Lupin's son. He was orphaned during the war. And the house I'm referring to is the one I inherited from Sirius Black. My own godfather.”

“And what do I have to do with all this? I don't understand.”

“Have you read the papers I left in your office?” he asks in a dismissive tone.

“Which ones? The ones you threw in my face after breaking my nose?”

“Exactly," says Harry, crossing his arms in a triumphant tone.

“You still haven't given me an explanation that I understand and makes it clear why you attacked me like a savage.”

“We have received a letter from the Ministry saying that this house now belongs to you for some bureaucratic reason.

“Well, it must be a mistake. I didn't even know about the existence of that house, why would I claim it? I don't even know where it is or what it looks like”

Harry looks confused. 

“How can it belong to you without even knowing of its existence? Even Kreacher does not obey us now.”

“Kreacher?” Draco twists the gesture. 

“The house elf. He no longer obeys us because according to him you are his new master. I don't even know how a fucking elf knows these things.”

“Look Potter, I swear on Merlin I don't know what the hell happened but I assure you I didn't claim anything and I don't want anything. So let me make some enquiries, talk to my lawyer and see what might have happened.”

Draco stands up and signals to the mirror. Immediately an auror lets him leave the room and Harry is left a little deflated and not sure what to say. Now he really feels stupid. 

An hour later, after a dust-up by Robards and swearing he won't attack Malfoy again, they finally let him out. Hermione is waiting for him outside with his arms crossed and that face she gets when she tries to explain something to him and he doesn't pay attention and then says that he hasn't understood. 

“If you've come to give me a talk, leave it because I've already heard Robards', which I assure you is more intimidating.”

“I really don't know what you were thinking.”

“What was I thinking?” he repeats ironically. “Well, Herm, I was thinking that me and Teddy have been evicted. I won't tolerate that asshole taking over our house. We have lost enough things already.”

“Harry, you are now an adult and responsible for a child. What would happen to Teddy if Malfoy hadn't withdrawn the complaint and you ended up out of work? Or worse, in Azkaban.”

Okay, he hadn't considered that possibility. And given that they are talking about Malfoy getting their house without a reason, he might as well have gone ahead with the complaint.

“We are no longer at war," continues his friend, "now things cannot be solved by attacking and by violence. Nor are we back at Hogwarts, where the punishment for cursing someone is to clean up a few trophies.”

“That's not fair," admits Harry.

He doesn't like the fact that Hermione brings to the fore that fight with Draco in the bathroom when he threw the sectumsempra at him.

  
  


When he arrives home, he writes a letter to his godson at Hogwarts, where, unaware of everything, he only awaits an owl from his godfather with sweets and caring words. 

That night he cannot sleep, his head bombards him with thoughts and ideas, one after the other, each with less meaning than the last. The worst thing is that the more he and more he thinks about it, the more insecure he feels, the younger and more foolish he becomes, wondering how it could be that at seventeen he would have felt more mature than he does now in his thirties; it had been impossible for him to have a conversation with Malfoy without attacking him. But when he had crossed the door of his office he had felt as if a time turner had brought him back to school. Damn it.

  
  
  


Robards has given him a couple of days off; according to his boss, having a long weekend would help him clear his head and it would help himself not to see Harry's face so he could try to forget that he almost had to arrest one of his best Aurors.

He cleans the house and tidies up a bit, he doesn't want Teddy to find everything as it is when he is back home for Christmas. He has to admit that when he is alone he doesn't take as much care of things as when his godson is there.

Once he's happy with the result, he takes a shower to feel clean again and sits in front of the TV on the sofa while flicking through a couple of leaflets from pizza delivery places. He seems to have found one that satisfies him when an owl crosses his living room and lands on an old chandelier while wailing loudly. 

“How the hell did he get in?” asks Harry as he gets up to collect the note he has with him.

  
  


_ "Potter,  _

_ I have found out some things about the problem in the house and I would like to discuss them with you. Is it okay if we have dinner at the Silver Patronus to discuss it? If so, we will meet there at six o'clock in the evening. Please confirm your attendance and I will reserve a table for two. _

_ Thank you. _

_ Kind regards. _

_ Draco Malfoy." _

_ Kind regards? _

Is Malfoy inviting him to dinner? 

He takes a look at himself, and even though he has just come out of the shower he feels ragged. He has never been to that restaurant. He has heard of it because Hermione has asked Ron too many times to take her there on some special occasion. She doesn't even know what atmosphere there is or what kind of clothes she should wear. It's time to ask the person she always asks when he doesn't know something. It doesn't matter what the subject is.

“Herm!, I was calling you to help me with something, how are you doing?

“Well, taking advantage of the fact that Ron is doing stocktake to have some time for me, would you like to come in?”

“No, I don't want to interrupt you, it will be brief. I've been invited to dinner at the Silver Patronus tonight at six. What am I supposed to wear?”

“Wow! Do you have a date?, who with? It's been a long time since you've been out with anyone.”

“Don't be too happy," he interrupts, knowing that if he doesn't stop her she'll be making a story of herself. “I'm going to have dinner with Malfoy, he told me that he has information to share about the house.”

“Well, he's chosen a good place... Although I suppose that, given how posh he is, he would eat there every night. Go smart, but don't overdo it either, with a shirt and jacket of course, but not a suit. That shirt I gave you last Christmas, which I don't think you ever wore, will be fine.”

When he's shown Hermione three different outfits and the witch is satisfied, it's almost time. He doesn't even care that much about clothes when he has an actual date.

He shows up outside the restaurant and waits for the time to come in. There, he looks inside trying to find Malfoy, he is not allowed to pass, it seems that the restaurant is too refined; someone standing at the door in front of a big book addresses him.

“Good afternoon," he says, trying to sound as polite as possible, "I am…”

“Harry Potter, of course” the wizard enthusiastically exclaims, "We were waiting for you” he says with his arm pointing into the restaurant “it's an honour to have you here with us tonight. We are very pleased that you have decided to honour us with your visit.”

As always when something like this happens, Harry feels uncomfortable and doesn't know what to say, so he just smiles and nods. He walks through a long room decorated tastefully for the Christmas season, trying not to be rude, but looking at each table looking for the person who will accompany him that night. He has never been happier to see Draco Malfoy in his life.

When he sits down and the waiter or whatever has flattered him a little more, he disappears. He lets out a sigh and thinks that's why he doesn't go out to dinner often. 

“I'm sorry," Draco suddenly says, taking it out of his thoughts, "I thought this was a fancy place and you wouldn't be bothered like this.”

He is glad to know that the other wizard has noticed that empty compliments are unpleasant for him. 

“Don't worry, I should be used to it, but I guess I don't go out as much as that.”

“Well, I hope you don't mind that I ordered some wine while I was waiting for you.

“Not at all, I like white and red so…

“Excuse me....”

Both wizards turn to observe a lady in her fifties who is smiling at them broadly.

“Yes?” asks Draco, a little annoyed by the interruption.

“I just wanted to say hello, Mr. Potter. I don't mean to intrude, but as I saw that you were not yet eating dinner yet I hoped not to disturb you too much.”

The witch shakes his hand between hers and for a few minutes tells him how grateful she is for all that Harry has done for them and how glad she is to have met him in person at last. That in her house everyone supports him and cares about everything he does and reads about The Daily Prophet.”

“I'm sorry," apologies Harry, he is so embarrassed.

“Don't worry, it's not your fault.”

“Mr Potter?”

After that interruption, two more people come to greet them and Draco ends up losing his patience. He reluctantly throws his cloth napkin on the table, gets up, goes to the waiter and speaks into the boy's ear. After a few seconds of conversation and a nod from the boy, who seems quite upset that they cannot eat in peace, Draco approaches him and asks him to go with him. And Harry, as if the most normal thing was to go into the bathroom of a restaurant with Draco Malfoy, follows him without even asking. At least, until the wizard opens the door of one of the small cubicles and invites him in.

“What are we doing here?” he asks much closer to him than he has been to anyone in the last few months, "are we going to talk in here?”

Draco looks at him as if he had made a stupid joke and ignores his question.

“I'm going to cast a glamour spell on us. I've asked the waiter to give us another table, when we leave here no one will recognize either of us and no one will come near to bother us. Seriously, Potter, how can you go out?”

“I don't go out much. At first I thought people would get tired, but since that stupid newspaper keeps publishing even the brand of underwear I use, people never get used to see me around.”

“Well, no fans tonight, I want to have a quiet and private conversation.”

“And why did you choose this place then?”

Not that he wants to go somewhere quiet and private with Malfoy, but certainly no place in the magic world was going to give him any privacy. 

Draco hesitated for a few seconds to confess his reasons.

“Well, I thought if you hear something you do not like you wouldn't hit me in a crowded restaurant.”

Harry wants the earth to swallow him up. Suddenly he feels like a child.

“About that…”

“Let's get out of here and continue talking outside. I'm starting to feel a bit claustrophobic in here”

It's also been many months since Draco has been so close to anyone, to tell you the truth.

Again, probably because he feels that he owes him something, he lets himself go and lets Draco cast a spell on him.

As they walk towards his table he wonders why he has never done that before. No one looks at him; no one. He looks at everyone around him without fully believing it. It's amazing. Suddenly a feeling of harmony and peace settles in his stomach. He feels like he's at home. As if all those people in the restaurant were just props. Thanks to his ex-school mate's skills, both can see each other as they are without any problem, he thinks because it will be easier for them to deal with the issues if they have each other in front of them.

Harry has not even touched his food yet and Draco wonders if he has even noticed that it has been left in front of him. He seems so focused on his new situation as an anonymous person that it gives him a bit of a rush to get him out of there and into the affairs that have led them to have dinner together that night. So Draco watches him for a while before starting the conversation. Potter seems so relaxed and happy... He smiles. He thinks he has never seen him smile like that before, so genuinely. For a few seconds he prefers to forget his business and copies the gesture. Like someone who watches a child on Christmas Day after he has opened his presents.

He feels he has to interrupt the moment, but looking at Potter like that will not solve his problems.

He clears his throat to attract the attention of the Auror before speaking.

“So, I would like to explain to you what I have found out and what I think will make you understand this misunderstanding.”

The gryffindor's gesture is sour and he curses himself for it. But he hopes to make up for it with what he has found out.

“Well, first of all," he says to justify himself a little, "I haven't initiated any proceedings. Nor have I done anything to end up in this situation, I want that to be clear” Harry nods, and continues “I don't know if you know this, but my mother passed recently.”

“I'm very sorry, I didn't know that," Harry says quickly.

“Thank you, Potter. Well, the only Black descendants left alive are Teddy and me. I'm older so the magic of the Black´s House has given me the right to live there.”

“But my godfather gave me that house when he died, it belonged to him.” 

“Yes, but Potter, I'm still older than you. I was born on the fifth of June," he says, when he sees Harry's face. “That house doesn't belong to one person, but to one family. My mother was the eldest, but before my mother, there was my aunt Andromeda, who owned it, so to speak; she died before, but it goes on for generations, until it was passed on to our generation, it did not change hands. It's absurd and stupid, I know. But that's how magic works. Teddy is under age, so now the house is technically mine.” 

Harry thinks about it for a while, not knowing what to say. His head turns to different options and he seems far away from there. 

“Potter.”

Draco's voice and his hand on his forearm bring him back to reality. He has lost his home.

“I'm sorry", he says without looking at him.

“Look, I don't want or need that house, for me you can go on living there without problems. But if you want it to be yours or Teddy's and pass it on to your heirs we have to regulate the situation.”

“Yes, of course," he says, still dazed by the information. The magic world will never stop surprising him. 

“Give me a few days, I'll talk to my lawyers, see what they say and how to solve this, okay?”

While they were saying goodbye at the door of the restaurant, the slytherin keep asking him if he was all right. But he says yes, and goes to an alley to show up at Hermione and Ron's house.

When he knocks on the door, his friend opens it and looks at him with a strange face, until he remembers that he still carries the spell that Malfoy has cast on him and undoes it. 

As he expected, they comfort him and make him see that it is not his fault that he has lost the house, that he has not failed as a godfather and that it seems that the slytherin will solve everything so he does not have to worry.

“I hope you have apologized very much and thoroughly. Not only he isn't guilty of anything, he's going to solve the situation. How do you feel about the punch now?”

“Shit," he exclaims, closing his eyes tightly.

“Didn't you apologise?” asks her friend, looking at him with disapproval.

“I was so dazed that I simply forgot. He must think I'm an arrogant jerk”

  
  


After the crazy week he had and Potter's aggression, this one was hopefully better. It wasn't that hard. So as he walks to his office in the Ministry, he just longs for a quiet, uneventful morning. He doesn't ask for much.

When he arrives at the reception of his department, the witch who acts as his secretary stops him to tell him that someone is waiting for him. When he asks her if she knows who it is, she simply shakes her head.

When she opens the door, he meets an attractive man, about his age, one he has not seen before, but who would not mind seeing more ofte.

“I'm sorry I'm late, I had to go through another department first.”

When he turns around, he has a little shock. That man is no longer there, but Potter is in his place. When he understands what has happened he laughs.

“I've created a monster," he says with a laugh.

“You can't give me something like this and now expect me not to use it," replies the gryffindor just as happily.

“So, what do I owe the honour? I still have my lawyers investigating.”

“I wasn't coming because of that," he hastens to add, "I mean, it is because of this issue, but I wanted to come because the other night I was rude and a complete idiot.

Draco frowned without understanding what he was referring to. He even had a good time. It wasn't the height of fun, but it was interesting on many levels. 

“I know it's late now, but I think I owe you an apology. A huge one. For the punch. I've never felt more stupid in my life, I don't know what to do to make up for it because there's nothing I can do now, but I'm really sorry, and the other night I should have told you and apologised, but…”

“Potter, Potter," he calls trying to calm him down, "it's okay, you've already apologized. I understand that you were like that. I wouldn't have used my fists, but surely some curse would have done something worse.”

“I'd like to invite you to dinner," he says without thinking too much, remembering the dinner at the Silver Patronus where he felt so comfortable. "I don't care where it is, you can choose it if you like, but it's my treat.”

“You don't have to, really” it's one thing to have a sort of meeting with Potter because you have a matter to discuss, but to just go and have dinner, what are they going to talk about?

“I insist, please” he exposes without leaving any exit. 

“Ok, if that's makes you feel better”

For some strange reason he's nervous about having dinner with Harry. He feels that there will be uncomfortable silences. That there will be no topics to discuss and that he will have a long dinner. He tries to think that it is just another one of his business dinners. A mere formality. Although not so formal, he thinks, Potter has told him to dress in a relaxed manner because they are not going anywhere as elegant as the restaurant. Not that he's squeamish, but he can't imagine where he might want to take him. Or why.

At five o'clock he apparates at Hogsmeade, where they have arranged to meet. For a Saturday, there aren't many people around, so he assumes that most of them will be in the pubs.

“If you're ready, grab my arm and we'll apparate.”

He obeys Potter without objecting and a few seconds later they find themselves in a dark alley in a neighbourhood he doesn't know or expect to recognise.

When they go out to the main street, he realises that everything is very crowded. There are a lot of people everywhere, Muggles. And they all seem to be very lively. The streets are cut off from traffic and instead of cars, high tables occupy the road, where groups of people, despite the typical cold of the time, gather to drink and eat. People seem to be very happy, they chat, laugh and some move to the rhythm of the music that comes from some enormous speakers on some balconies. The truth is that he is fascinated.

As they walk through the crowded streets, he squeezes a little against the Auror for fear of losing him in the tumult. But he just smiles at them and walks without saying anything. They arrive at one of the tables and stay standing, Potter calls a kind of a waiter and asks him for two beers.

“You like beer, don't you?” He just nods, “two pints of Carling, please.”

When the waiter has lost himself in the crowd, he is still fascinated by everything that is going on around him.

“It's a festival," says Harry, looking at him as he smiles, "I like coming here every year, it's fun and I don't need to use a glamour spell here. Although I have to say I have been recognised here too”

He can't help but deny, funny. 

“You're too famous, Potter. Where are we?”

“In London, in the Soho district.”

Draco squints. He's heard of it. A lot indeed, and insistently. Blaise goes out around this place and sometimes asks him to join him, he knows which company you are looking for when you come here, Potter is a box of surprises. Although seeing how everyone treats him in the magic world, Draco understands he decides to come to the Muggle side. 

The waiter comes back and puts the two glasses on the table and both take a long sip before talking again. 

“Do you come here often?” asks Draco with a little foam still on his upper lip.

“Yes, when I can. Especially on weekends.”

“Have you ever seen Blaise around?” he asks, although seeing the other wizard's face, he has to clarify, “Blaise Zabini, Slytherin from my course. He comes here a lot. You know, to get laid.”

Suddenly, he notices how Potter reddens from head to toe. As if he had caught him red-handed. He doesn't break eye contact while taking another sip of his beer with a smile. He loves knowing he's in control.

“Well, I've never met him” luckily, he thinks to himself. 

The conversation is pleasant, they talk about the magical world, their friends, their jobs. They joke about the situation with the house, in spite of Harry, who still feels remorse, and above all, they laugh. Draco believes that the fact that he has had two pints of beer on an empty stomach has helped a lot. And Potter doesn't look much better.

They dine in a cosy Italian restaurant with tables that are too small for them, where their knees almost touch. The food is nothing fancy, but half drunk and very hungry they receive it as a delicacy. Then they go out to the street and stand among a huge group of people who are crowded together to see something that Draco does not know yet. They both wait there standing up and he starts noticing the cold. Nights in England are cold, especially when winter is already upon us. He should have brought another coat, although of course he wasn't planning to walk around London, but rather to apparate at a restaurant. 

He observes Harry next to him looking straight ahead and for the first time, he realises that he has a nice profile. He noticed that he was attractive when in one of the pubs, while he was ordering at the bar, a boy came up to flirt with the Auror. Very shamelessly. Potter has elegantly taken him away from him, but while Draco was waiting at the table, he has been able to understand why he has approached Potter. He has a perfect jaw. Straight, but not hard. And it's not that he's a typical film handsome, but he does exude a certain attraction. Like when you are confident and self-assured. Like when you have so much power to defeat the world's most powerful dark wizard. Suddenly he stops and looks at him with different eyes.  _ Fuck _ .  _ He _ has defeated Voldemort himself. With those hands now resting in his coat pockets, how can he look like an ordinary person and harbor such power? Something is moving in his stomach. 

Harry turns his head and looks at him with intrigue. He doesn't quite understand why there is such scrutiny. But then the reflection in his glasses turns red and big noise makes him jump up.

Fireworks. Draco hadn't seen them for years. He means he didn't stop just to look at them. He has heard them at New Year's and Christmas other times, but in the background, he has never gone out alone with the intention of stopping to watch them. And it would be great if it weren't for the fact that it's freezing. But then he feels a weight on his shoulders and when he turns around, he realises that Potter has thrown his coat over his shoulders.

“There's no need," he says, gesturing to remove it, "I can cast a heating spell.”

“In front of all these Muggles?” he asks, looking curiously at him, "Don't worry, I'm wearing my thermal uniform clothes underneath, I'm fine.”

“Thank you.”

When the fireworks are over and people are moving around, he grabs the arm of the Auror so as not to get lost. But people don't seem very willing to leave, the music starts up again and they begin to pile up in groups and dance and drink again. 

“Would you like to stay a little longer or would you prefer to leave now?”

The question makes him hesitate. He is having a good time and the gryffindor's look is a kind of plea for them not to leave. It's been so long since he's been out and above all, he's not having any fun, that he decides he'll indulge himself. Harry's smile lights up his face. 

He has drunk something called tequila, sucked salt from the back of his hand and bitten into a lemon, and for some reason, that has made him laugh so loud. Also seeing Potter licking his hand has made him feel something else. And this time it was not in the stomach. He wants to think that it is the fact of not remembering the last time he was intimate with another person.

But the night goes on, and he feels more and more uninhibited. They both dance to songs he doesn't know. With people he doesn't know either and in places where he doesn't remember arriving. But the atmosphere is so suggestive that he lets himself go. He lets himself be carried away by the damned smile of the Auror that does not stop laughing or talking. 

At one point, Draco finds himself spinning, Potter standing next to him, holding his hand over his head, while he keeps spinning. He feels a little dizzy and stops, he stumbles but thanks to Merlin, Harry grabs him. They both laugh out loud and a moment later they are kissing. When they separate, Harry's gaze is no longer funny, but serious. He takes him by the hand, leads him out into an alley and once there, he apparate them up at his house. And finally he meets the bloody Grimmauld Place. 

When he wakes up, he wants to think that he doesn't remember anything. But he actually tries not to think so he has not to remember. His head hurts terribly, but before he gets nauseous, he calls for his jacket and takes out a vial of hangover potion. He swallows it all at once and closes his eyes and mouth tightly while counting to ten so as not to vomit. Once he knows he is not going to come out, he opens them again and looks around. 

He wishes he couldn't remember anything. Not that he regrets it, but for some reason he thinks things shouldn't have been like this. He doesn't get drunk and sleep with people. It's not right. It doesn't feel right. Even though his stomach is rumbling at the thought, and not precisely because of the hangover, because the potion is already having an effect on him. So what is he supposed to do now? Leave? Stay for breakfast as if nothing had happened? This uncomfortable situation reminds him why he hasn't slept with anyone for so long. 

Potter grunts and moves next to him. He seems to sleep so peacefully. He moves even more towards him and passes an arm over him. Great. Now he is trapped.

“Stop thinking so much and go back to sleep it's too early.”

The voice of the Auror startles him. He has not even opened his eyes. Or his mouth too much. His voice has sounded hoarse. 

But you know what? nothing to lose here, he's already there, and very tired. The alcohol hasn't let him rest, so now that he no longer has that feeling, he decides that maybe sleeping a couple of hours will help him to clear his mind, he lies down again in bed and lets Potter's hand keep removing the hair from the back of his neck.

When he wakes up again, without knowing how many hours have passed, he is alone in bed. He feels very good, he has to admit it. The bed smells of someone else (obviously) and that makes him feel some warmth and company. 

He gets up and follows the smell of toast to the kitchen. Potter is there, with his back to him, just wearing some old cotton trousers. He turns and smiles at him.

“Kreacher, your master is here," he says amusingly, "now can you tell me at once where the damn jam is?”

The sound of the apparition takes him by surprise as do the praises of the elf. 

“Do you like English Breakfast Tea?” Draco nods, "Great, because it's the only one I have”

They sit down to breakfast without any further ceremony. When they finish their toast, Potter drops his head on the table.

“Do you need to drink a hangover potion?” offers Draco.

“No, thanks, I've already had one. I´m just tired. I'm not a child anymore, if I don't sleep eight hours I'm not a person.”

Draco succumbs to the desire and imitates the gesture Harry made this morning; he puts his hand on the back of his neck and twists his hair a little. He immediately regrets it, but when he removes his hand, Harry's grabs it and puts it back on the back of his neck. 

He can't help but smile. 

When Potter gets up and starts to collect the dishes, he thinks it's time to leave:

“Where are you going?” Harry asks cautiously as he watches him pick up his jacket from one of the chairs, “do you have somewhere to go?”

“No, but it's almost mid day…”

“Stay, we'll order something to eat and we can watch a movie. It's Sunday, it's a day to not get overburdened and to rest.”

Can he afford to do nothing for a whole day?

Harry, having guessed his doubts, gets up and goes over to him, grabs him by the waist and kisses him. Merlin, it feels so good. 

“We first take a bath, and then lie down on the sofa to watch a movie, what do you think?”

Draco kisses him back, placing his hands on the strong shoulders of the Auror and moving them towards his neck. He likes the idea. 

It feels like a holiday, Draco feels like a student who can leave his studies for a period of time. 

The bath is very pleasant. Very nice. He sits with his back to Harry's chest while he, as he can see, is naturally talking. He tells him things about the Auror brigade and how his boss gave him an astronomical scolding for his "incident", as he has called it using the inverted commas with his fingers. 

“I'm glad I hit you actually" Draco turns with a raised eyebrow. “Well, if I'd left that to my lawyers like Hermione suggested we wouldn't be here now, would we? Breaking your nose was a small price to pay for taking a bath with me Malfoy.”

“You're impossible," he replies by closing his eyes and sliding a little further under the water, "I still haven't completely forgiven you, just so you know.”

Harry moves a little overloaded and he immediately turns around with a smile so that he can see that he's just joking. 

The Auror moves towards his neck and leaves short, sweet kisses. He doesn't have the strength for another round but he soon realises that he is simply being affectionate. Draco is not used to such caresses and gestures. And he does not know what to think about it. Especially coming from whom they come.

It is as if they were on an island. But he knows that at some point they will have to leave it. Once he sets foot outside that house, what will happen? Will everything be the same as it was before? Will they be treated cordially, just like that?

He doesn't want to think about it. He relaxes and lets the hot water relax his muscles, and the hug of the man behind him relaxes the rest.

Two days later, he still remembers that weekend as if it had been a whole week. They bathed, went to the sofa where while watching a movie they both fell asleep, then when they woke up they ordered food and then they spent some more time in bed until he had to leave. And it was hard to leave. It was hard for him to separate himself from those arms that held him tightly and from the lips that kissed him with passion. But at some point he had to come back to reality. 

On his side, Harry, who as Hermione always repeats to him, gets excited about everything and very soon, he does not know what to write or tell him to see him again.

In the Muggle world he has no friends, only occasional partners with which to vent. In the magic world, apart from his friends, he only has people who overestimate him and idolize him as if he were some kind of reincarnated Merlin. And he can't stand it. But now Draco arrives. Someone unexpected with whom he doesn't have to be careful because he finds out he is a wizard, like he does when he goes out with Muggles, but he is also someone he doesn't have to watch or be careful with because he wants to go out with him for who he is. He is perfect. And he's so attractive, so masculine, and he is such a character. He knows that Draco is not going to say yes to everything as if he were afraid that he would leave him as Harry has done in other relationships. He certainly knows Draco is not after his fame. It's like he can trust him even though he doesn't really know him that well. But he knows that the slytherin can be many things, but he is honest and true to his convictions. Whenever he has imagined his perfect partner, almost always after a disappointment, he has imagined him like this: someone who belongs to the magic world but who is not intimidated or attracted by his fame or name. And Draco meets those conditions, and some more extra ones that he hadn't asked for but with which he feels more than comfortable.

During Tuesday morning he thinks about going to see Hermione and telling her, he needs to tell someone, to share it. But he knows he must be careful, not everyone will be happy that he suddenly gets on so well with Draco Malfoy.

Luckily, her friend is in her office among a pile of documents, as usual, so he drags her to a cafe on the corner where they make a carrot cake that she cannot resist. 

When she hears the whole story, as he expected, she is stunned. Even though he has left many intimate details to himself.

“I'm not going to judge you," she begins, "but don't you think it's strange?

“What is it?” he asks. Not that he is surprised by his friend's attitude. She usually ends up finding fault with everything. He came prepared for that.

“I don't know, that after all that has happened you have ended up like this. A week ago you broke his nose and now suddenly you go out together, you slept together...... Has he fixed the house issue?”

“What does it have to do the house issue with what has happened between us?” he asks suspiciously.

“Well, a lot to me. I don't know, what if he just wants to divert the subject? Or make you forget about it?”

Harry doesn't answer, he doesn't know what to say: that he trusts him? that he knows he wouldn't? What he does know, is that those answers will sound empty to his friend, so he refrains from answering, just changes the subject and comments on the last thing Ron has brought into the shop.

That same night he sends an owl to Draco to try and see him, but the only answer he gives him is that he has had a problem at work and is very busy. After what his friend has told him, he can't help but think there's something wrong, so he decides to wait a little while to see if it's the slytherin who decides to write to him, but when a couple of days later he still hasn't received any reply, he ends up meeting with Hermione again to see what her advice is. She is always right and the truth is that he hates it. 

As soon as he arrives he knows that there is something he does not know. And after everything that happened in the war, there is no feeling that he can bear less. 

“Harry, I know you're not going to like what I'm going to say” his friend starts, and he knows it “but when we talked the other day I was not very happy, so I asked a fellow lawman to take a look at Malfoy's business. It's been less than a week since he's blocked all his assets.”

“What does that mean?” he doesn't know why, but a feeling in his stomach tells him it's not a good thing.

“It means that all the goods he owns are blocked. He can't sell, or give up anything. It is common in some contexts, if someone from your family, as an example, has started wasting the fortune, with this block you can avoid it. But I can imagine why Malfoy would do it. Harry” she does stop to make her point “as long as this situation lasts, he cannot give up Grimmauld Place. Not to you, not to Teddy.”

“It may have been something else” he's trying to convince himself.

“Now? Doesn't that seem like a lot of coincidence to you?”

“And why did he go out with me and everything else? I don't understand. He didn't have to...

“Well Harry, maybe it just happened.”

“I can't be that stupid.”

And the worst part is not feeling stupid, but seeing the expression on Hermione's face.

As soon as he has put his lawyers to work to get his house back, he decides that he never wants to hear from him again. And he really tries, but at night, while he is alone at home, he can't stop thinking about it. He feels cheated; but above all, he feels that the slytherin has taken advantage of him.

Shortly after starting his vow of silence, as if it were a joke of fate, an owl from Draco arrives. He has probably received a notification from his own lawyer and wants to talk about it. He doesn't know if he should go alone when he meets him, Hermione advises him not to, but he feels stupid because the owl was obviously personal. And he is not a child anymore. He's a grown-up, he can have a civilised conversation and he's learned his lesson, he knows that punching doesn't work.

At twelve o'clock he goes to his office in the Ministry of Magic where he knows that the slytherin is waiting for him. 

Although he has prepared himself mentally for what is to come, his body reacts when he sees him. It would still help if he wasn't so handsome, the idiot; and that when he saw him he didn't smile would have helped too.  _ Come on Harry, you're not twenty anymore, be strong. _

“Sit down," Draco invites him, "I've got two minutes left and we can go and eat if you like.”

Harry looks at him in disbelief. 

“We don't have to go anywhere," he says, "whatever we have to talk about, we can talk about it here.”

This time it's Draco who looks at him strangely.

“What do you mean?”

“Didn't you get an owl from my lawyers?” he asks, trying to keep up his countenance.

“Yes, but well, I told you I'm on it. I thought you wanted…”

“I have nothing to talk to you about other than my house.”

“Harry, has something happened?” Draco seems to be totally caught up in the moment. As if he didn't understand anything. 

“I know what you've done” he hints hesitantly. 

“Well, you might clear it up for me again, because I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“From now on, what we have to talk about can be through our lawyers” he stresses while the man in front of him remains as incredulous as at first.

When Harry closes the door, he feels so satisfied with himself that he has neither succumbed to Draco nor fallen into his smile. But Harry has not seen the face of the slytherin who seemed to have seen a ghost.

In the following days, he receives several owls asking for explanations, but he refers to the same thing, and it is the only thing he allows himself to answer. 

On the one hand he feels relief, on the other anger. It was like a mirage. It's only been one damn weekend, he reproaches himself. Why has it been so relevant? Why does it provoke him, so many days later, to have everything stirred up inside him? Why did he feel so relaxed and confident with him if they hardly knew each other? and above all, why does he feel so disappointed now?

Those days, he spends his time in the alley buying Christmas presents from Teddy and his friends, his godson will soon come to spend the holidays with him. This way he will be more entertained, he also thinks he doesn't know how he will tell him about the house. His lawyers insist that if Malfoy does not resign, there is nothing they can do. It seems that Draco was right, the house does not belong to one person, but to the family. And as much as it annoys him, he is not a Black and Ted is under age so he cannot claim it for himself either.

The family atmosphere in Diagon Alley does not improve his mood, it only makes him feel even more lonely. He has the feeling that he only crosses paths with couples on the street.

After almost three hours he has finally found everything he thinks his godson will like. It's a pity that he doesn't show any interest in Quidditch, because the last broom he saw in Quality Articles for Quidditch has made him eyes. Maybe he'll give it to him himself. He doesn't have what he wants, anyway.

One night when Ted has gone with Victorie, Bill and Fleur to see a film, he decides to open a bottle of fire whisky, a tradition he started the first Christmas after the war to celebrate he was alive, and which he keeps up because he thinks it brings him good luck, although the truth is that this year he is beginning to question whether this is the case. 

Just when he is deciding whether the most sensible thing to do would be, as fortune does not seem to be on his side at the moment, to have a second glass, an owl crosses his living room again. Harry knows where it comes from, or rather, from whom. There is only one person with enough power in that house to circumvent the spells of security and property. 

He opens the letter while he pours the second round of whisky. He drinks the contents when he sees Draco's studied calligraphy making his name seem elegant: "Harry Potter". When the Auror writes it it looks quick and shabby.

When he reads the contents of the papers inside the sealed envelope, he has to put the glass aside and try to fix his eyes. He needs to talk to Hermione. He doesn't know if the volume of alcohol in his blood is affecting him. 

When you read the contents of the papers inside the sealed envelope, you have to put the glass aside and try to fix the view. You need to talk to Hermione. You don't know if the volume of alcohol in your blood is affecting you. 

After Harry has confirmed that he is not hallucinating, he returns to his fireplace, takes a deep breath and looks for his best pair of jeans. 

Draco feels the floo network when he is about to go to bed. He checks the time and wonders who's calling him at this hour. Besides, right now everyone is already on holiday. 

More than curious, he approaches the green flames and is surprised to see Harry behind the fire. What could he be coming with now? Knowing how crazy the Auror seems to be, it could be anything. First he punches him, then he invites him to dinner and they sleep together, then he doesn't talk to him and sends him to his lawyers as if they were dogs of prey... It drives him crazy in every way. 

Harry asks him if he can come in and for a moment he doubts it, but it seems that he comes in peace, so he gives him the go-ahead and after a few seconds he has it in front of him. He comes dressed almost the same as on the day of the festival in Muggle London, what does he want?

Before he can think of anything else, he pulls out the papers he sent him a few hours ago. 

“You've given me the house.”

For a few seconds, he doesn't quite know whether it was a question or a statement.

“Yes, that's what I told you I would do” he confirms.

“II knoe, but my lawyers told me that you had blocked your assets and that I would not be able to get it.”

Draco is surprised, why does Harry know that?

“Well, that's a long story," he admits a little pensive, "but I don't understand what that has to do with Grimmauld Place.”

Harry looks down and Draco begins to understand the reason for the drastic change at dawn.

“Did you think I was going to keep the house for myself?” The silence in response makes him realise that he has hit the nail on the head. “Is that why you have been treating me like this?” More silence. 

Draco closes his eyes and shakes his head. Damn impulsive Gryffindor.

“My lawyers” actually, Hermione's, he thinks “told me that you had blocked your assets so that no one could intervene and that it would be impossible for me to get the house back. And that you had done that.”

“Did you really think that after all” Draco doesn't clarify what he means by  _ all _ , but oh, they both understand well what he means, “I was going to trick you into keeping your house? Why did you agree to go out with me if you thought I was capable of something like that?”

Making Harry look a little embarrassed makes him feel a little better, but only a little.

Draco clarifies that his father's lawyer warned Luciuw when he started to move the whole house, so the head of the house Malfoy blocked all the movements; but the positive side is that Grimmauld place was not a Malfoy property, so his father, now in exile because in England he is a persona non grata, couldn't avoid it no matter how much he wanted Draco to give up the property.

“That's why I was so busy, because I was trying to operate my companies with the blockade my father had put on all my assets and accounts.”

“I feel very stupid," says Harry who feels like a child being scolded by his teacher. 

“Well, it's all cleared up now; I hope you're happy that you've got the house back” in what seems to be an attempt by Harry to retaliate, Draco continues “It's better this way, I don't know what we were thinking.”

_ Idiot, idiot, idiot...  _ thinks Harry. He was thinking about so many things that he feels overwhelmed.

“I know what I was thinking, Draco" he says anyway. He's screwed up, lowering himself won't make him lose anything else right now. “I was thinking that everything seemed too good to be true.”

“What do you mean?” he asks a little defensively, crossing his arms.

“That the day of the festival was perfect, and also the day after. You and me in my house. That I felt as comfortable as I've ever felt with anyone. I thought that we fit together too well, that suddenly everything made sense. But…” he hesitates to explain this “it was too good, and good things never happen to me.”

Draco struggles internally to stay strong and not go running off to him. He is _that_ _good_ thing. Harry has referred to him as a _good thing_. The fucking hero of the magic world thinks he's a _good thing_. No, that the two of them, together, is too good to be true. It's the most generous thing anyone has ever said to him, it's the nicest way anyone has ever referred to him. So this is the Gryffindor courage. Having the guts to spit out your feelings in such an explicit way.

“Do you think it's going to work? it seems to be just misunderstandings between us” he says, having the same feeling. 

“I don't know," answers Harry honestly, "maybe I should just starting to ask and speak up instead of just figuiring and imagining things by myself, but it would be stupid not to try, and I think I've filled my quota of stupidities for a lifetime. I don't want to have to regret anything else.”

Draco approaches him slowly. Like someone who approaches an animal without knowing how it will react.

“What happens if it doesn't work out?” Draco murmurs almost over his mouth.

“That we've tried." Harry looks at his lips as he speaks. “What if it works?”

He can't help but laugh. Before kissing him he looks into his green eyes and has that feeling he had that weekend. But after that, he doesn't remember anything else.

And just when they are about to deepen that kiss, the big clock in Draco's living room strikes midnight, both of them turn, startled. The slytherin looks at him as he cradles his face in his hands.

“Merry Christmas, Harry.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
